Kiss and Tell How
by Justina C. Nathans
Summary: Alice comes to Gilbert with an unusual request. Gilbert/Oz/Alice


**Title:** Kiss and Tell How  
**Series:** Pandora Hearts  
**Author: J.C. Nathans**  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 11,024  
**Pairing:** Gil/Oz, Gil/Alice, and Gil/Oz/Alice  
**Warnings:** Threesome, adult language, sex  
**Summary:** Originally written for the Pandora Hearts Kink Meme on LJ.

**Prompt:** "Gilbert/Oz/Alice. Make it so that Alice comes to Gil, requesting kissing lessons. Some how or another, she convinces Gil to give her the lesson, whether it is by taunting or something else, Gil decides to go ahead and give her some~ However... things go too far and they find each other in a passionate make out session~ Oz catches them in this act and.... decides he wants in on the fun~ 3333 I want threesome sex~" with the additional caveat of "[T]he reason WHY Alice comes to Gil is because she heard from a few noble ladies and maids that Gil is a good kisser".

----------

"Oi, seaweed head, I'm tired of biting cheeks. Teach me how to kiss."

Startled and flabbergasted, Gilbert Nightray dropped the contents of a file to the floor in front of him. "W-what the hell?" He had been alone for the better part of the day, reading over reports and generally spending most of his time locked in the library for the space and the silence. Or rather he _had_, but that was definitely over now that Alice had (somehow) found him and was currently taking over the library doorway, hands on her hips. "I don't think I heard you right." Gilbert reached down to pick up the loose papers now scattered on the carpeted floor. "You want me to what?"

"Teach me how to kiss."

Papers now back in place, Gilbert sat back in the padded armchair he had been occupying as Alice shut the library door and stood beside him. He briefly considered asking her why she wanted to learn so badly (though he really wondered why the hell she was coming to him more), but swallowed that question down before it surfaced. "No!"

"Why not? I just want to be like them!"

Them? Gilbert found the question he had wanted to ask once more. "What? What are you talking about? Them?"

"Sharon's books!" The light in Alice's eyes made Gilbert nervous. What books was Sharon giving her? "There were people kissing and there was biting, but not on the cheeks!"

Gilbert paled. Biting... not on the cheeks? Kissing? Something didn't add up. "Sharon didn't explain any of that stuff when she showed you the book?"

Alice briefly looked away, cornered. "Not exactly--"

Two seconds later, he had it figured out. "You broke into her library?!"

"The door was open, seaweed head! I just wanted a peek!"

"That doesn't give you the right to go snooping through her books!" Gilbert sighed, visibly nervous with good reason now. Alice had been in Sharon's library. Not only had she found her way in there, but she had looked at books that he was sure Sharon had every intention of hiding. This was definitely a problem. "Why don't you ask someone else?" He wished that could have come out more like, 'Why does it have to be me?'

"I can't ask Sharon because she'll know I went into her library." She made a disgusted face and stuck out her tongue. "And I'm not kissing that stupid clown."

As much as Gilbert hated to say it (more than he hated the idea of having to teach this stupid rabbit how to _kiss, _of all god-awful things), he had to ask about the one obvious other choice: "What about Oz?"

Alice was silent and looked away again. Gilbert could swear that he saw a faint touch of pink on her cheeks. "I'm not kissing my _servant_..."

"I thought I was your servant too."

"You're my servant's servant, which makes it fine!" Any of that momentary emotion she displayed while on the subject of Oz was gone. "Now teach me!"

"Hell no." Gilbert flipped open his file again. "And besides, if you don't know how to kiss," And the question had been nagging at the back of his mind since the moment Alice appeared in their world. "Then how did you form your contract with Oz?"

"That wasn't kissing," she explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "That was making a contract."

She's crazy. Gilbert couldn't understand why she hadn't put two and two together yet. It was the same thing. "But you still want to learn how to kiss."

Alice nodded furiously and it was the nicest (and least violent) state he'd seen her in for a long time. "The people in Sharon's books looked like they were having fun."

He could only imagine what kind of fun they were having. Gilbert considered his next words carefully. "Have you spoken to Oz about this?"

"I don't need my servant's permission," she exclaimed a little louder than usual. "I'm the master here. And besides..." There was a devious look in her eyes that Gilbert recognized: it was Oz's signature expression. "You wouldn't want me to tell him all about the--" She paused for dramatic effect. "--_tentacles_, would you?"

The mission played back in his head, a cinema reel where he sees Break laughing and himself naked, and Gilbert paled. "You wouldn't. Oz doesn't need to know about that."

"If you teach me, he won't."

"Fine." Gilbert sighed and folded his mission file shut; he placed it on the small table just in front of him. Blackmail is a powerful weapon, he realized. "Show me what you saw in Sharon's books."

Slowly, Alice made her way to where Gilbert was sitting on the large armchair and leaned down just enough to brace herself on the armrests. Her cheeks were pink, but with what, he had no idea; he closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable moment. Maybe she'll decide not to do it at the last minute, he thought. Maybe she'll complain about not wanting to kiss a nasty seaweed head (her phrasing, not his), or maybe (and he didn't move, not one finger, not one breath, because he could feel her moving closer), just maybe...

Alice kissed him.

Her lips were dry and warm and most of all, soft, but he tried not to dwell on that fact as she kept her lips firmly pressed against his. She was motionless too, that much he could focus on, and her lips weren't moving, and of all things, this couldn't have been what she saw in Sharon's books.

And then it hit him.

I'm kissing Alice, he thought in a panic. Alice is kissing me. His mind ran through multiple lists of why it shouldn't be happening, where all started with 'she's a Chain' and 'I hate her' tied for first place (but somewhere on another list, he discounted the softness of her arm brushing his and slimness of her hands on the armrest and even the fact that she was female, a welcome change). He raised his hands, pressed his palms to her shoulders and pushed her back, and opened his eyes to stare at her, the high of panic just winding down. She was motionless, her face blank, her cheeks a little darker, before she straightened back up, placed her hands on her hips, and resumed her facade. "Well," she asked, confident and proud, "What did you think of that?"

She's proud of herself, he realized. Here goes nothing. "Stupid rabbit, that sucked." Alice raised her fist to punch him, but he caught it mid-throw and held her there, hovering in the space between standing and kneeling. Neither of them moved. "You can't tell me that's what you saw in Sharon's books."

She retracted her fist and straightened up. "No." Bashful. Huh. Who would have thought she had that emotion?

"I thought so." Gilbert took a deep breath and steadied himself for the words that he knew he was about to say (and had to), but that still made him wildly uncomfortable. "Be serious this time. Show me what you read."

"Fine," she agreed, a little reluctant, her face just a little bit darker than before. "Whatever."

"You're the one who wanted the lessons."

"I know! Now shut up, seaweed head so I can kiss you again."

Gilbert hadn't meant for it to happen, but hearing a verbal declaration of what they were doing made his stomach flop. He was glad Alice couldn't know that. "Hurry up then."

Once more, Alice leaned over the armchair, planted her hands into the fabric, and closed her eyes. This time, though, Gilbert kept his eyes open, watched her intently as she lowered her mouth down to his and couldn't tear his eyes away. Vulnerable. Open to attack. If this were any other situation, it would have been the perfect one. But it wasn't; he was in charge of her now, in charge of showing her what Sharon's books didn't (or did, but he suspected that Sharon was biased towards women on top). She brushed her mouth over his, once more soft, but this time, there was something different about the way she kissed: she tilted her head, she brushed her legs against his knees as she moved closer, opened her mouth against his--

Wait.

Her tongue brushed against his lips and Gilbert froze. He struggled between the conflicting thoughts of 'feeling good' and 'I'm kissing that stupid rabbit'; it was a challenge and the urge was great: push her back and end this lesson or continue. Instinct provided him with the answer he couldn't give: he kissed her back, gentle, grazed his tongue against hers, and tried hard (damn hard) to bite back a groan when she moved back just a fraction of an inch to bite his lower lip.

What the hell kind of books did Sharon keep?

He wanted to stop this and find out, but a hand tightened in his shirt, and Gilbert glanced down through lowered eyes; Alice clenched her fist in the white fabric there. He wanted to laugh; it was funny, especially considering that they really did hate each other and now? He reached up and tried to find her in the muddled mental haze he was working with--wrist, shoulder, neck. Found her. He pushed back with wide spread fingers over her collarbone and a palm against her chest. "Better." It was the most praise he was going to give her, ever, lesson or not. "You're still doing it wrong, though."

This time, Alice did not straighten up and remained leaning over Gilbert's chair. She licked her lips slowly, thoughtfully. "Hmph. I was just doing what I read."

Transfixed at that one sight, Gilbert watched until he had to force himself back to the present, a slow, agonizing moment of mentally being somewhere else in the future. "Well, it's wrong." He clenched the fingers at her neck just slightly, enough to recognize that he was still touching her, and used both both hands to move her forward and steady her. "First, you don't stand over people and kiss them."

"But that's how all the women in Sharon's books did it."

He didn't want to mention that Sharon was the undisputed mistress of any man that was unlucky (or lucky, he supposed) enough to be her slave, hence her literary selections, so he decided to leave that bit out. "Those are special cases. You usually want to be close to the person you're kissing." He gripped her shoulders with both hands, secure and a little tight, and brought her close enough so that she had to sink one knee into the soft armchair to keep from toppling over. "Come closer."

"That's close enough, seaweed head."

"Do you want to learn how to kiss or not?"

Alice sighed and braced her other knee on the opposite side of Gilbert's hips, kneeling on the armchair rather uncomfortably. "Are you sure this is right?"

"I'm sure, stupid rabbit." He pressed her down into his lap to straddle his legs. "There."

She settled in his lap with a wiggle and a shifting that made Gilbert glare at her hard. "What?"

"Stop moving so much."

"I have to get comfortable."

Gilbert sighed with his gloved hand on his forehead. She couldn't hold still for more than five minutes just to learn something? He wanted to believe that he could merely stop this lesson in favor of keeping his sanity, but... He glanced at Alice. Her face was still pink with a blush that led him to believe that this was likely the case with her as well: as much as she wanted to stop the lesson to harbor her hate for him (and he knew that the feeling was very mutual), she couldn't. It was too good, was too wrong for them to not finish. The one who ran first would be the loser, would have to hear the comments about being a coward for weeks, and as much as Gilbert wanted to be able to taunt Alice over running away from something as innocent as kissing lessons, he knew that she wouldn't give in.

Which was fine with him.

He was planning on taking this as far as he could.

Alice had stopped shifting in his lap and had moved her hands to his shoulders without him noticing and he could feel the light pressure through his jacket. "What's next, seaweed head?"

"Touch the person you're kissing." Without so much as a pause, Gilbert reached out and gripped her small waist through her jacket. Alice stiffened under his touch; it was even more obvious when she glared at him, a darkness touching her eyes that almost made him think twice, but made him smirk instead. He still didn't move his hands. "Let them touch you."

"But what if I don't want them touching me?"

There was an undertone to her voice that not-so-politely suggested that Gilbert remove his hands and quickly if he still wanted to keep them later, but Gilbert--seeing it and recognizing it as something that was clearly not a threat--laughed at her, a move that clearly irritated her much more than he thought it would. "You'd be in trouble then. What do you think kissing is?"

"Hmph." Reluctantly, Alice moved one of her hands from his shoulder to the side of his face. Her fingers were warm for the brief second where she grazed her fingertips over his cheek as if in thought, then wrapped her hand around the thick strands of his hair there. Her side of her palm rested against his cheek, hot and alive. It made his stomach flip again. "Like this?"

Gilbert's eyebrow twitched in irritation, but it was hard to be angry when she wasn't pulling. There was no malice in her voice either. "I suppose that works."

The library grew quiet. Alice looked away, her eyes lowered, and Gilbert suspected that it had something to do with their proximity: Alice was, after all, sitting in his lap. He supposed he would have been shy too if the positions were reversed and he had to stare at someone he hated while--

Oh. Well. He guessed he couldn't blame her, really.

"What's next?"

No 'seaweed head'? It struck Gilbert as strange. Her voice was quiet, low, and if he hadn't been so close, he probably wouldn't have heard her. He took a deep breath. "Last," and he was sure that this was going to be the part of the lesson that he regretted giving, but he did it anyway. Leaning forward, he licked up her lower lip, gently, and had she not been sitting in his lap, she might not have heard the rest of his instructions (and he might have missed the tiny hitch in her breath after). She glanced up at him, a fire behind her eyes that he hadn't seen moments ago and an openness in her expression that let him know that it was fine to continue. Gilbert faltered for a split-second. "Do what comes naturally."

It was the part of the lesson that Alice was best at. She closed her eyes and shortened the gap between them to press her lips against his, feather-light, and Gilbert did nothing but allow her. Her fingers flexed in his hair and in return, he clenched his hands at her waist, moved them around her back to ensure she didn't fall backwards, and pulled her a little closer in his lap. Moments later, when her tongue brushed against his and he couldn't stop himself from pressing down on her hips, he did not feel her stiffen and she melted into his hands, into his touch.

Stop, Gilbert warned himself. Stop this. She just wanted a damned kissing lesson.

But he couldn't stop himself, much in the same way that he was sure that Alice couldn't stop herself. It was as if a fire had started inside of himself and only by moving, by touching her, would it starve itself and burn out. Gilbert reached up, pried her hands from his cheeks, and starting from her lapel, tugged the sleeves of her jacket over her shoulders, down her arms, and past her wrists without breaking his connection with her mouth. He slung the jacket towards one of the other armchairs, and unconcerned with whether or not it reached its target, continued to kiss her, tongue stroking against hers. No longer was it about the kissing lesson, it seemed; Gilbert had hoped that she would think it was hopeless to learn from someone as useless as him (her words, again, not his) and merely give up. She hadn't. She'd held out.

And now this was the result: two people with such an intense hate for each other unable to stop themselves.

Gilbert didn't care. In fact, he was long past the point of caring when Alice loosened her hand from his hair and fisted her hand in his cravat. She pulled, starting to undo the knot without knowing it, and it was as he felt the fabric loosen around his neck that he moved around her working hand and touched his fingers to the top buttons of her white shirt.

Immediately, Alice wrenched her mouth away, her breathing altered only slightly, and stared at Gilbert, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "Is this what's supposed to happen when you kiss?"

Gilbert shook his head minutely. "No." He didn't bother lying, however he did leave out that they were definitely past what constituted as the standard "lesson" on kissing. He wanted to ask her if she wanted to stop, but when he saw the look in her eyes, eager to continue, as if she was eager to learn more, he tugged her forward with his hand on the front of her shirt. With his mouth once again pressed against hers, he peeled apart buttons and fabric one by one, slow and methodical, until he reached her navel. Unable to rationalize his thoughts or his actions and unable to convince himself that this isn't what he wanted (or what Alice wanted), he pulled away from her mouth (torturous and hard to do) and instead replaced his fingers with the press of his open mouth on her throat, her collarbone, the space between her breasts.

Alice cried out, her voice high and breathy, but a little angry, and that was good, Gilbert realized. It meant that she wasn't completely unaware of the situation. She hadn't lost recognition of who he was.

It was just as Gilbert had his gloved hands under the hem of Alice's skirt and was sliding it up over her thighs with his thumbs that the library door opened.

-----

It took Gilbert approximately two minutes, eight seconds to realize that the library door had opened, closed, and that someone was standing there in wait. In that time period, he had managed to unbutton Alice's shirt completely and was still trying to figure out how to continue kissing her while removing her skirt, when something suddenly Didn't Feel Right.

Gilbert glanced over, just slightly, and--

Oh, dear goddammit.

Like someone had set fire to Alice and the only way to save his life was to get away, Gilbert braced his arms on her shoulders and pushed her back, breaking their kiss and sending Alice toppling backwards to the ground. He didn't try to break her fall; it was rude, sure, and he watched as she landed on her back with a pained noise of annoyance. She didn't look up at him to find out why, either; she knew. She wasn't stupid and she stared upside-down across the room at the library exit.

Oz.

Dammit.

Oz was standing in front of the closed library door, frozen. His face was blank and Gilbert honestly couldn't blame him. He wouldn't have known what to think if the situations were reversed and he saw Alice in Oz's--

No, he knew exactly what he'd think and he hoped, hoped, hoped that Oz wasn't thinking the same thing now.

No one moved. Alice continued to stare at Oz's face. Gilbert didn't stop watching him either. And all the while, Oz was focused on Gilbert, almost like he didn't see Alice there. The silence was deafening and awkward and finally, Gilbert felt compelled to break it. "Oz, it's not what it looks like."

Alice shifted her head backwards to get a better look at Oz and in the process, the white button-up shirt that had been barely covering her slipped open to bare her breasts. Gilbert sputtered and was sorely tempted to reach down and pull her shirt closed, but Alice clearly wasn't finished making his life a living hell. "Ignore seaweed head. It's exactly what it looks like."

There was a glimmer in Oz's eyes that scared Gilbert for a second (and he flashed back to the cat attacks of his youth with a shudder). "So," Oz started and Gilbert took a deep breath in preparation. With that look in his master's eyes, there was no telling what he would say. "You were doing indecent things with Alice, were you, Gil?"

Gilbert sputtered again and found that no matter how hard he tried, it was getting much harder to breathe. He waved his hands in front of his chest frantically, trying to dispel Oz's words. "No, no, no, no no no, the stupid rabbit came to me to learn how to kiss."

Oz took a step forward with an overly bright smile. Gilbert started counting down the last few seconds of his life. His master was going to end his life in the middle of the library and all of the world would know what happened between he and Alice over a stupid kissing lesson. "I don't believe you, Gil." He continued to cross the room, slowly, and Gilbert knew it was over with. He was done for. If Oz wanted to find them, couldn't he have just waited until the end? "Why would Alice want kissing lessons from you?"

He wanted to take offense to that, really, but he couldn't when Alice was jumping in to say something. Please back me up, please back me up.

"Oz." The blond looked down at Alice, who was now lying near his feet. "Seaweed head was teaching me how to kiss."

Thank you.

Wait.

What the hell…?

"Are you completely incapable of reading the mood?" Gilbert shouted down at Alice, who was not only not looking at him, but pretending that Oz's blank face was much more interesting. And it wasn't a lie, because it was interesting, especially the way Gilbert turned and watched his eyes go unfocused and his mouth open just slightly and…

Gilbert shuddered when the corner of Oz's mouth quirked up in a devilish smirk. "Really? Were you, Gil?"

Those were going to be the last words he heard before the inevitable cat attack that was going to end his life, he was sure of it. "O-Oz, I can explain, really--" he stammered, but the sight of Oz's hands laced in front of himself threw him for a loop. His master looked like he was going to bat his eyelashes and ask sweetly for something, cheerfully, but it was a lie, a ruse. It always was, but now he was coming closer...

"Show me."

Oh, Gilbert realized. Show him. Okay. Easy enough--

"S-show you?!" Gilbert sputtered. Had there not been a chair holding him up, he would have surely landed on the floor in shock. Oz wanted him to show him? Show? And why was he still coming closer? "There's... There's no way I can show you that!"

"Of course you can." There was a deviousness there that made Gilbert shiver. Something about the way he was saying those words... "Besides," he started and seconds later, Gilbert was treated to the exquisite warmth of Oz's legs pressed against his knees, warm and inviting and begging to be touched. Gilbert swallowed hard when Oz leaned forward, nearly straddling him, and his sanity was rapidly taking a nose-dive: "I have to make sure that my servant is teaching Alice the right things."

"Oz..." This was not going according to plan, Gilbert realized as his master lifted one knee and then another to straddle him much like Alice did moments before. Smaller hands settled on his face and they were much warmer (and much more familiar) than Alice's; in return, Gilbert found his hands drawn to Oz's hips, a familiar habit that many nights alone without Alice had helped to breed, and struggled to hold them still. "Oz, I can't--"

But there was nothing of 'I can't' in Oz's mind at that moment and Gilbert watched him slowly lean close. It took him a few seconds to realize that Oz was not planning on kissing him yet, that his mouth was not pressed against his own lips but his /ear/ instead and when Oz spoke, Gilbert's will to disobey disappeared like an exquisite magic trick: "Show me what you did to her."

Gilbert could not disobey, especially when he asked like that.

It was a kiss of more tongue than he was sure Oz would have liked and a lot less teeth than the young master was used to, but Gilbert tried to accurately recreate each flick of the tongue, each breath, each inch his hands slid up Alice's thighs. He could feel Oz's hands tightening on his face, his hips shifting downward, his breathing even, but a little bit fast, and it made his heart race. By the time he was able to catch up to his heart, regain control over the senses that had abandoned him for the feel of slender hips grinding against his own, Oz was pulling away and with a secret delight, Gilbert noticed the pink flush that spread across his face, his dilated eyes, and--greatest of all--his swollen lips.

Why he had pulled away, though, was anyone's guess, but he was laughing lightly and when Gilbert realized what he was laughing at, it was too late.

Alice, who had managed to right herself on the floor to watch, had made her way back to the couch and was now only a few feet away, watching, transfixed, her eyes glassy and her breathing uneven. Gilbert found that he too was transfixed, but for a very different reason, and he nearly couldn't snap himself out of his trance to hear Oz ask Alice: "Do you want more practice kissing?"

Red-faced, Alice nodded furiously, her tousled hair shaking around her face, and Gilbert watched the next few moments in slow motion as Oz leaned back, tipped Alice's face up with one hand, and kissed her. He couldn't look away; it was like a bad carriage accident--he had to know the aftermath. It was enough to make Gilbert's mind blank out and go fuzzy with something he couldn't recognize (Jealousy? Anger? Maybe, he couldn't tell), but before he could put a name to his emotions, before could muster up the courage to stop the kiss himself, Alice was pulling away, comically out-of-breath with red cheeks and even redder ears.

He was still so caught up in the moment that he once again nearly missed Oz's words. It almost seemed as if no one had spoken. "I'm sorry?"

"Now," and when Oz started his sentences that slowly, Gilbert knew he had something to worry about. " Gil gets to kiss Alice!"

"I-I... Wait a minute, I already taught Alice to kiss!" Gilbert wondered if there would be any getting out of this one. He hadn't disobeyed yet, but... "She doesn't need to kiss me again!"

Swollen lips curled up into a devious smile. "But she needs the practice, Gil."

"I'm not kissing her again!"

Oz clicked his tongue and immediately, Gilbert knew he should have obeyed when he was first asked. Despite the discomfort, it would have made everything so much easier. "Gil, you shouldn't disobey your master."

Of course he shouldn't. He knew that, but it was the principal--the concept--of it all: he couldn't just outright kiss her again. Not now that she was aware of the situation. He couldn't!

The look Oz gave him was purely authoritative: kiss Alice or else.

Gilbert wondered if the 'or else' was something much worse than a cat attack. He shuddered.

So maybe he supposed he _could_. "Fine." Oz smiled deviously at him. "But just this _once." _

Oz didn't rise from his lap, which made moving ten times harder, but he was able to lean down and cover Alice's mouth with his own with a minimal struggle. This time, there was a reluctance in her movements that wasn't there before Oz arrived: the way she just barely opened her mouth, the tiny brush of her tongue against his, her fingers clenched tight against his upper arm. He supposed he couldn't blame her, really; neither of them were doing this out of want anymore (but he knew he really could only speak for himself in that respect) and he knew that if they were both to have their way, they'd be fighting over kissing Oz in--

Alice moaned against his mouth.

Gilbert almost pulled away, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, there were fingers pressed against his chest and a mouth on his throat and then Alice gasped into his mouth and kissed him hard. He wanted to open his eyes and find out what the hell was going on, but there was no opportunity to; there was an intensity to Alice's kiss that made him _angry_ and he couldn't figure out _why_, but he dug his fingertips into her back and tried not to hiss when Oz licked and nibbled at his neck and when Alice clenched her fingers into his arm hard enough to hurt. Barely able to stop himself, Gilbert pulled away and caught a lip full of teeth for his trouble and he no more than had the chance to breathe before Oz kissed him again, fingers working open the buttons of his shirt.

"Gil," Oz's mouth was hot against his ear seconds later. "We should teach Alice something else."

He couldn't stop himself as he realized exactly _what_ Oz meant. "No, Oz--"

Alice pouted at him, her lips turned sideways. Oz was calm, but there was a glint in his eyes that warned him this was dangerous. "You started the lesson, Gil."

Oz was right. He _had_ started the lesson and while this hadn't been the original intent of it (or at least, not _wholly_), if he left now, it would be incomplete. He'd have to deal with a stupid rabbit running around asking for more lessons (and he wasn't sure he _wouldn't_ die of shock if Alice suddenly asked for a lesson on sex during tea). Gil sighed. Better to get it out of the way now, he supposed. "We should move somewhere else. Someone could just walk in."

A devious smile spread over Oz's lips. "Gil and Alice can wait in my room." His smile was a little sharper now; Gilbert shivered. "I'll meet you there."

As they gathered their clothes (and Gilbert tried to prevent Alice from walking around topless), Gilbert realized that whatever would happen next would be very good and very bad all at the same time.

---

Gilbert led the way to Oz's room and not only did he have to worry about Alice, who still had not buttoned up her white dress shirt and instead had chosen to throw on her jacket and pretend that she was fully dressed, but there was also the problem of servants to worry about. It was not yet time for dinner; he was sure that there were going to be obstacles, namely servants and...

Oh, god, he didn't even want to _think_ it.

_Break_.

He couldn't even imagine running into Break in this condition, nor did he want to imagine it, but the threat was still there. Break could pop out of anywhere, any doorway, any cabinet, from behind a plant, from the ceiling (and he really didn't want to think about all the pieces of furniture that were used as his crawlspace)... The possibilities were endless. He could feel himself going cold and white at the thought.

"Oi, seaweed head."

Gilbert glanced over at her quickly, then resumed scanning the hallway for servants. So far, so good. "What?"

Alice flicked her eyes down at his waist, then back up at his face, and smirked. "Heh, seaweed head's got a problem."

Problem? Gilbert looked down at himself, then back up again, red-faced. He shuffled his arms to hold his coat over his front. Stupid observant Chains... "Shut up!" he hissed incredulously and tried to keep his eyes on the narrow hallway ahead. Oz's room was just around the corner on the back hallway...

Oz's room.

Only now did Gilbert start to panic. Going to Oz's room was nothing out of the ordinary for him, but he had never willingly brought Alice. Especially for this reason. He had come to accept that teaching Alice was a part of having Oz as a master: Oz would tell him to explain something to her and even if he didn't want to do it, he did so anyway. For Oz. But this was entirely different, he realized. This wasn't teaching Alice about how to eat meat, or drink tea, or even take a bath; no, this was teaching Alice about kissing and...

Gilbert's head swam as he reached Oz's bedroom door and braced himself on the handle.

Sex.

He was supposed to teach her about sex.

He didn't even want to think about the idea, even if he knew that he was seconds away from doing the same thing with Alice in the library. The only difference between then and now was the timing: if Oz hadn't found them, if Oz hadn't stumbled into the library, Gilbert wouldn't have had to explain what was going on, Alice would have somehow learned, they could have just gone with the flow, and it would have been over by now.

But no.

Gilbert turned the knob and opened the door, ushering Alice inside first before stepping inside himself and closing the door. He watched Alice immediately make her way towards Oz's bed and sprawl out on it, kicking her feet in the air, and he wanted to grab her legs and hold her still to keep her from moving so much. How could she be so calm?

"So," she sat up, and Gilbert took the opportunity to sit down in the small armchair across from Oz's bed, "What are we going to learn about next?"

_I'm_ not going to learn anything, Gilbert thought, you're going to learn most of it. He wanted to tell her that too, warn her that this lesson was not like the last one, not like any of them, really, but before he could, the bedroom door opened and simultaneously, they both stared at the door. Alice folded her legs underneath herself, Gilbert didn't move from his seat, and Oz stood there was a look that Gilbert could only describe as amused.

"Did you start without me?" Gilbert shook his head and watched Oz make his way to the bed and sit down on the edge. "Good." And he lifted his hand and crooked his finger and motioned for Gilbert to leave his chair and come closer.

He couldn't disobey, not now, not again, not ever, really, and so he rose, crossed to the end of the bed and sat down.

Alice, who had resumed kicking her feet up and down on the bed, blew out a breath and sat up to look at Oz. "What are we going learn? Seaweed head wouldn't tell me."

Oz climbed up further on the bed, his feet leaving the floor. "You know Sharon-chan's books? The ones she lets you read?"

She nodded furiously. Gilbert wondered how, exactly, Oz was going to explain this _and_ keep her interested.

"What if I told you she had more books?"

Alice's face lit up like she had just found a secret entrance to the butcher's storeroom. "More books?"

"Lots more! But you have to know what's happening in the other books to understand them, right?"

More furious nodding. Gilbert supposed that Oz wasn't deviously manipulative for _nothing_.

But devious manipulation was nothing compared to what Gilbert saw next: Oz reached out, cupped Alice's face in his hands, and before Gilbert could do anything to stop it, kissed her. Transfixed by the sight, Gilbert found he could do nothing but watch, unblinking, his hands fisted by his side. Oz, his master, and... and Alice... they were kissing and he couldn't stop it. This was all part of the lesson, part of the plan. He watched Alice's hands go limp, then move to Oz's knees, noticed the subtle arch of her back, saw the tips of Oz's fingertips poke through her hair when he broke the kiss and slid his mouth to her ear.

He was whispering something, but Gilbert couldn't hear what. To make matters worse, he could barely read Oz's lips with his face nearly hidden by Alice's hair, but he could see those green eyes, dark with intensity and and narrowed in amusement. He almost swore that Oz was giving her... instructions?

And then all too suddenly Alice turned around and looked at him, her mouth swollen and red, and Gilbert found himself frozen to the spot in quite a different way than before. The devious look on her face matched Oz's at it's best. Gilbert shuddered. "What did you tell her?"

Oz grinned. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"No, really, what--" Gilbert had no chance to finish his line of questioning, because before he could prepare for it, Alice was in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist and he struggled not to drop her as she shifted against him in an echo of their previous encounter in the library. He groaned, held her hips still, and managed not to tangle himself with her hair as she kissed him. Her lips were wet and hot and somewhere in there he could taste the cool mint of what could have been afternoon tea--Oz, more than likely--and it was a taste that made him bite back a groan at the thought; her hands, however, were cool to the touch as she brushed over his throat and the back of his neck.

He could only wonder what Oz had whispered in her ear, what he had explained to her, as they kissed, tongues scraping against each other.

No sooner than he wondered, he received his answer.

Gilbert felt a hand brush against his chest and then disappear, only to reappear seconds later in the form of Alice's half-whined gasp into his mouth. And then suddenly, he felt Alice's hips shift and her breasts press against his chest, and her arms moved from around his neck, and before he could open his eyes to see what was happening, he realized exactly _what_ Oz had explained to her: clothing removal. He was almost positive that Oz was undressing her and he was sure that if he looked down, he would see the movement that he so adeptly sensed--

He opened his eyes just enough to glance down between their bodies. There it was.

Oz's hands.

Oz's hands were moving over Alice's breasts, pausing briefly to brush over her nipples with his thumb, four fingers grasping desperately, and it instantly drove all of the blood in Gilbert's body straight below the waist. Had he not already been painfully hard from that moment in the library, it would have been the sight that did him in--thumb and forefinger rolling a nipple between them and Alice's chest heaving as she tried not to cry out--and he pulled the gasps from her mouth each time Oz brushed over a spot that made her grip on his hair go slack.

The sound of metal teeth echoed in the quiet of the bedroom and Gilbert found Oz's hands on Alice's thighs, his fingers underneath the hem of her skirt to pull upward as much as he could. He exposed skin inch by slow inch and Gilbert groaned, Alice whimpered, and the sound made him lament about the current situation. Sure, he hated Alice, it was a feeling as natural as breathing, but there was a tiny part of him that wanted to be able to teach her something other than kissing, something more important than the trivial lessons he was usually stuck with. Oz was going to get the chance to do it and though he couldn't understand why the thought bothered him so much, not being able to do it, Gilbert realized it was all because of their contract, their...

Their relationship.

Ugh. He didn't even like thinking the word relationship and Alice in the same sentence.

And then, as Alice's tongue swept over his lower lip, the discomfort was lost and simultaneously, an idea hit him.

So he wouldn't get to teach Alice about sex. That was fine. If his master wanted to do it, then that was a decision Gilbert would have to live with. (He wasn't too terribly upset about it either.)

But teaching Oz a little something?

There was no reason _not_ to. It was the closest he would come to torturing Oz. Ever.

So instead of gripping Alice's shifting hips with both hands and holding her there in his lap, he continued to kiss her, and with one hand, reached out behind her to find Oz. It wasn't hard and Gilbert moved his fingertips from his temple to his cheek, to the exposed hollow of Oz's throat, down along the buttons of his shirt, over his stomach, his thighs. He could hear Oz's breath quickening and Gilbert bit at the corner of Alice's mouth as he moved his fingers, slipped them under Oz's shirt, and found the button on his shorts.

One twist of his wrist, even with his gloves, and his shorts were open. Oz shakily choked out his name and Gilbert barely heard it, but the sound satisfied him for a moment where he wanted to hear more, wanted to do more, and he realized all at once that maybe, just maybe this wasn't about Alice anymore. Maybe this was about all of them. He had to fulfill his urge for more; he slipped his fingers awkwardly into Oz's shorts and tried to touch, tried to curl his fingers around that heat, but he could only force a choked breath from Oz's mouth and then his fingers were free. He briefly opened his eyes; Oz was moving, his face flush and lower lip bitten red, Alice was whining low in her throat, and before Gilbert knew it, she was topless and Oz was coaxing her to stand up. Transfixed, he watched as she rose from his lap, stood on the bed, and followed Oz's fingers as they took her skirt down her thighs and to a white pool at her feet. He could dislike her, hate her, loath her all he wanted, but there was no denying the fact that she was naked and female and he couldn't draw his eyes away. It had to be pheromones, hormones, something (maybe the fact that he was an average male?), because he just couldn't ... look away--

The spell was broken as soon as Gilbert glanced back at Oz. The corner of his mouth was upturned in a small smile. "Teach her."

"T-teach--" and seconds later, Alice had climbed back into his lap, naked except for her boots. It would have been an awkward position to be in had she not been there moments before; now, it was only naked skin and fabric and his fingers scraping over her hips and waist. He didn't kiss her, not yet, and instead brushed his fingers over her throat, her collarbone, and even experimentally flicked his thumb over her breast. She squirmed, moaned, but at the same time, Gilbert could see the minute shake of her hips, the pronounced arch of her hips, and he knew that Oz had to be touching her, doing something that he simply couldn't see from his angle; the way she sucked in each sharp breath and clung to him was a positive indication.

Showing off, Gilbert thought, just because he thinks he knows what he's doing. He twisted his thumb and forefinger around one of Alice's nipples and watched her fight against the conflicting sensation of pain and pleasure. Behind her, Oz did not look pleased. Gilbert simply smirked and all at once, Alice was crying out again and he realized it. He was subconsciously trying to outdo Oz.

He knew he shouldn't have even _thought_ it; Oz was his _master_ and he couldn't even try to outdo him. He was sure if Oz ever found out what he was thinking, he'd have cats in his bed for six months straight, but the reward was so much better than the punishment.

Gilbert steadied his hand on Alice's waist, held her tight, and reached out with the other to find Oz and pull him close. He managed to ensnare Oz's tie in his hand and pulled him away from Alice and to his side where he could work his fingers around each tiny button of his shirt and slide off his vest one shoulder at a time.

"Cheater," Oz breathed and Gilbert moved his fingers around Oz's as they helped him to undo his tie. "Gil's cheating."

Cheating at what, he had no idea, but he mouthed at Alice's breast and her collarbone (and Alice cursed at him in a tone that made him harder, if that was even possible) and lost grip on Oz's shirt as he moved back mere inches to escape.

There was no escape for Gilbert, however, because moments later, Oz's smaller hand was around his wrist and guiding his fingers down, lower--

Gilbert froze when Oz placed his hand right between Alice's legs. He wanted to say something, but Oz was already moving away and rising from the bed and the look on Alice's face was pure wonder, and he simply _couldn't_. He rubbed at her clit with his thumb, transfixed by the way she tossed her head back and hissed and bucked her hips in an attempt to get him to move, and it was cause-and-effect magic. He shifted his thumb again and she was slick and hot under his fingertip. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Oz moving, shifting, rising from the floor and before Gilbert could react, Oz was at his side, pressing and shifting against him.

Oz was just as hard as he was. He moaned. Oh god.

He couldn't stop himself and the next few seconds between the them was a blur that he wouldn't claim to remember. Gilbert shifted his hands and pressed the thumb of one hand against Alice's clit and rubbed until she protested and whined; he wrapped the other around Oz and twisted his hand, glove and all, around his cock until Oz could no longer bite back his groans. It was a glorious amalgamation of moans and whines that Gilbert could only take in and store for later and it was as Alice whined and dug her fingers into his hair that Oz jumped with the force of an electric shock and backed away, his cheeks red and his chest heaving with, "Gil, no--!" on his lips.

Gilbert stared at him in alarm. "What?"

For a few moments, moments where Alice still writhed and shifted her hips, Oz merely breathed, his chest rising and falling sharply. Then as suddenly as the moment came, it was over, and Oz was practically climbing into Gilbert's lap, pressing against Alice to kiss him. This time, teeth and lips met and mere seconds later, Oz was pulling away. "I know," and Gilbert could barely make out the words with all of Oz's panting, "I know that the lesson should be about Alice, but..."

Despite himself, Gilbert laughed lightly. His master wasn't so selfless after all. He really did want to have his cake and eat it too, but he supposed he couldn't blame him. There was now no pressure for _him_ to teach Alice anything else. "Of course." He scraped his teeth over Alice's neck and she hissed at him angrily as he stopped moving his fingers against her. "Go to Oz," he whispered and the look she gave him was pure curiosity. Maybe she had no idea what was going to happen after all.

Alice climbed from his lap and Gilbert took the opportunity to rise from the bed and make his way across the room to the washbasin in the corner. He tried to keep his eyes on the situation unfolding on the bed, but found that he couldn't, not without running into some piece of furniture first; instead, reached behind the basin and wrapped his hand around a glass bottle of yellow liquid.

Bath oil.

Oz hadn't moved it after all, though he had supposed that one of the servants would have eventually seen it and returned it to the bathroom for him.

Popping open the small cork, Gilbert turned...

...And dodged a white boot thrown from the vicinity of the bed.

"Stupid rabbit, what the hell...?" he started, but the way Alice stuck her tongue out at him from her upside-down position on the bed, sprawled naked underneath Oz, made him reconsider any tongue-lashing he wanted to give her (and instead made him think about what she could do with _her_ tongue instead). He shed his shirt with the open bottle in one hand, then removed his gloves, draped them carefully over the armchair before returning to the bed; he found Oz on top of Alice, his face in her hair, and locked eyes with the boot-throwing Chain as he dribbled the oil over his naked fingers. The look in her eyes was pure fascination.

Gilbert placed the bottle between his thighs for safe keeping and pressed a finger of his dry hand to his lips in silence; he coated two fingers in the oil and rubbed them against Oz's entrance.

Under him, Oz shook and shivered and groaned into Alice's neck, but Alice was still transfixed. She stared at him hard and Gilbert did not break the contact as he slipped the tip of one finger inside of his master. He bucked and writhed and groaned and finally managed to choke out, "Gil, you're still wearing too much!"

"I-I--" Gilbert looked down at himself. Well, sure, he was still fully dressed, but that wasn't something that he was really concerned with at the moment. He joined the tip of one finger with the tip of the second inside of Oz. He didn't suppose his wearing pants even _mattered_, to be honest, but apparently it was an issue when Oz was squeezing around his fingers and he groaned, sinking them in deeper. He could only think of how it would feel to remove his fingers and replace it with something _much_ more substantial and feel Oz squeeze around that instead--

He could barely stand it anymore. He didn't bother to stop the slow grind of Oz's hips as he removed his fingers and unfastened his pants. He could see Oz shiver, see Alice's mouth quirk up in a smirk and then fall open in a groan, and he dribbled the open bottle of oil over himself and stroked as Alice watched. Moments later, he was nudging the tip of his cock against Oz's slick entrance.

Oz stiffened like he had been struck by lightning and his hips slowed in their leisurely grind for a few seconds. "Gil--"

Gilbert groaned and pressed there for a few breaths and then finally, finally sunk into Oz like fingers in a well-made glove. It was maddening; the tightness and the heat and the way that Oz was clenching around him so rhythmically almost assured that Gilbert would lose control in matter of seconds, but he held on. He held on with clenched teeth and pressed himself to the hilt, as far as he could go, and wished that he could be so much deeper. Alice was bright-eyed and still watched carefully and Gilbert reached around and gripped her hips with his hands, dug his thumbs into her hipbones and both she and Oz cried out in startling unison. It was maddening. It was intoxicating.

That feeling was about to get a whole lot more intense.

Almost detached from the situation, still throbbing inside of Oz and unable to move without losing control himself, Gilbert watched Oz press his face into Alice's hair, against her ear, rest against the side of her face, and he could almost swear that he saw him whisper something to her. He couldn't hear it, his voice was so low, but--

Oz's shifted his hips. Alice whined low in her throat and then suddenly cried out in a tone that Gilbert had never heard before. He could see her chest heaving, a bead of sweat rolling down her face, her eyes fluttering closed, and the sight of his master moving (groaning, grinding, shifting) made Gilbert shift his hips too, pull out only a few inches, and press back into his master as far as he could go.

Three simultaneous groans filled the room, high-pitched, breathy, exhilarated, pained, content, and there was no sensation, no feeling Gilbert could even dream of that could feel like this. The trio panted, breathing in much of the same air, shifting as one unit, and every time Gilbert shifted, even minutely, it sent Oz deeper into Alice, who cried out in a strangled voice. They hovered in limbo, stuck between the boundaries of pleasure and pain, for moments that felt like hours to Gilbert. He couldn't move, even though it was the only command his brain screamed at him, nor could he force anyone else to move.

Oh god, how he wanted to move. He wanted to just shift his hips, even once, relieve the pressure there, but it was impossible.

Until Alice decided to move on her own.

She shifted her hips and arched her back and moaned and Gilbert held on to her hips tight, but it wasn't enough to keep a grip on his sanity. Oz groaned in response and thrust his hips and then it was Gilbert's turn to growl low in his throat and thrust back. He watched the muscles in Oz's back tighten and stiffen and then stared transfixed as his hips moved and Alice cried out and Gilbert could barely see straight. That was the first time.

By the third time, Gilbert was sure he knew the cycle: Alice would squeeze, which would, in turn, set Oz off. Oz would shift, squeeze, and that was what Gilbert felt. In return, he would thrust into Oz, who would thrust into Alice, and the circle was complete.

But no matter how easy it was to describe, it wasn't easy to escape from. Gilbert merely wanted to come, get off the way he was familiar with: his hands on Oz's knees and thighs, holding his legs against his chest, but he couldn't, not with Alice underneath them both, practically controlling the show. (And he wondered if she really needed a lesson at all and if Oz had known.) He moved his hips, pressed himself in and out, inch by slick inch, until he could feel his self-control beginning to fray.

Gilbert could barely keep any sort of rhythm and he snapped his hips recklessly, roughly, and pressed his thumbs into Alice's hipbones until she glared at him and tried to fight off his grip. Her glare did nothing to stop him and he kept one hand on her hip and pressed the other to Oz's thigh and before he knew it, he was burying his face into his master's neck and bruising Alice's hip with his thumb and coming roughly, recklessly, frozen in mid-breath, inside of Oz.

That was the action that pushed Oz over the edge.

Gilbert watched through heavy eyelids, his hips gradually slowing, as Oz's body stiffened and tensed and his breathing grew shallow and quick until he shifted and cried out and slumped forward on top of Alice, his arms awkwardly preventing him from crushing her. They were silent for a long while as a trio, breathing slowing, panting, and Gilbert pulled out of Oz and his master shivered and Alice groaned her discontent and they were suddenly not one, but three once more.

Finally able to move, Oz rose to his knees and slumped backwards into Gilbert's embrace, exhausted; he wrapped both arms around his master and instead of speaking, chose to watch Alice as her breathing slowed, her heaving chest stilled, and her eyes fluttered open--

"Oi," and she raised her hand sluggishly and raked her fingers through the pool of come that had settled on her belly. "What is this stuff? Is this normal?"

Gilbert's arms shook as Oz laughed lightly, but there was an exhaustion in his voice that could be heard clearly. "It's normal."

"Oh." A pause. "Can I eat it?"

This time, Gilbert found he couldn't keep quiet. "What? No, stupid rabbit, you can't--" Well, you could, he realized, and then shook his head. That was for another lesson completely. "Just stop playing around and get cleaned up." He rose from the bed and made his way back to the washbasin, his knees uneasy and his legs shaking, moistened a small hand towel in the room-temperature water; he handed one carefully to Oz and threw the other at Alice. "Here."

Alice stuck her tongue out at him (and only reaffirmed the idea that he wanted to see what she could do with it) and before he could dip his own hand towel into the basin, one was flying at his head; he barely dodged it and it landed in a pile at his feet. "Damn you, stop throwing things!"

"Hmph." He watched her cross her arms over her naked chest, sit up, and then dive under the duvet. "Quiet seaweed head, I'm tired."

"Hey, you can't just sleep anywhere--"

Oz waved his hand at Gilbert. "It's okay. Gil should probably sleep too."

Gilbert thought about it for a moment. He was exhausted and it was late, but the only thing he wanted at the moment was a cigarette and a bath to wash the smell of the two of them from his body. "I can't--"

"Yes, you can, Gil!"

"No," and Gilbert felt a sinking sense of deja vu. Hadn't he been in this situation before? "I can't--"

"Gil, isn't disobeying your master what got you here in the first place?"

Oh. Well, of course it had.

Gilbert sighed. "I'll stay."

Oz cheered, which prompted a sleepy grumble from Alice, and as soon as his back was turned and the lights were extinguished, Gilbert shed his oil stained pants, and climbed into the bed. He settled on one end with Alice between he and Oz, something he was not used to at all, and was surprised to find Oz leaning over Alice's sleeping body, his mouth pursed tight as if he was requesting a kiss. With a small laugh and a shake of his head, he accepted his master's mouth against his own, quick and was sure--he was almost positive, really-- that he heard Oz whisper 'next time' at the end of their kiss, but he didn't press it. He was asleep--with a small foot kicking his stomach--moments later.

----

Later, much later, when Gilbert finally found himself awake and realized that Oz was no longer in the room and Alice's foot was snugly pressed against his cheek, he untangled himself from the knot of her limbs and rose from the bed to find his pants. He found them tangled at the foot of the bed, one leg inside-out, and he realized rather quickly that he had to have been in a rush to not put them somewhere safe.

Oh well. It was over anyway. No sense in dwelling on it.

Pants on, he reached next for his jacket and found it draped over the armchair; he fished his cigarettes from the inside pocket and returned to the bed, his head heavy and his arms stiff. Alice had laid between them all night, kicking and rolling around, and while Oz himself was no restful sleeper, Alice had him beat by miles, in Gilbert's opinion. He sat on the edge of the bed closest to Alice, lit a cigarette and inhaled, long enough to quell the tightness in his lungs and wake him up.

What had they done?

Alice was asleep beside him, Oz was more than likely causing terror or having tea (he hoped Oz was _alone_, having tea; he _very much_ hoped that), and Gilbert found himself smoking and wondering what happened.

It wasn't normal.

It wasn't normal to sleep with one's master and their Chain. In fact, neither of those two would have been normal separately, let alone together, but he couldn't get over the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that he _liked_ it. In fact, that he _loved _it. That he wanted to do it _again_. He rolled his eyes and took another deep drag of his cigarette. It was true and he couldn't even get away from it, especially with the evidence snoring loudly beside him.

He tipped his ash on his knee. He'd have to have the pants washed anyway.

But he wasn't supposed to like it. It was supposed to be a lesson. That was all. Educational. Instead, it was a time he was going to have to try hard not to think about in public. (Try _very_ hard not to think about, especially if he was specifically remembering the way Oz stiffened and seized up when he came or the feel of Alice's hipbones under the hard pressure of his thumbs.) Or maybe it would be over for good. Alice should have learned all she needed to know and Oz would claim the lesson was suitable and it would be over.

He inhaled again and blew smoke out around his cigarette. Oh god.

Or maybe they liked (loved?) it too and wanted to do it again. Maybe, just maybe (but he didn't know if he had the courage to do it), he could ask Oz and see how he felt about it and suddenly Gilbert could feel himself getting hot and his heart beating faster at the thought--

"Oi, seaweed head."

Startled, Gilbert yanked his cigarette from his mouth and looked down at Alice, who was still spread out under the bedsheets just as naked as they all were hours before. Her eyes were bright and he looked away as he dusted the ash off of his black cotton pants and he hadn't expected her to wake up in the middle of a mental panic attack. "What?"

"Those ladies were right."

Gilbert froze. Where did that come from?! "W-what ladies?!"

"The servants," Alice counted off on her fingers, "And the one who cuts the meat! The maids--"

"Wait, is that why you came to me in the library?" It was starting to all make sense. He rested his cigarette on the edge of the wooden bedside table before turning to Alice with every intention of throttling the answer out of her. "What did they say about me?"

There was a split second where Alice didn't move and only smiled at him and the fear crackled in the back of Gilbert's mind as he watched. It was terrifying. However, the moment broke mere seconds later, and Alice sat up in bed, holding the wrinkled sheets to her chest as she lifted her mouth to his. For the second time, Gilbert froze, unable to move or think for a moment; when his brain took over and commanded him to kiss her back, it was already over and a searing pain filled his world with white-hot remembrance.

Alice pulled away with swollen lips and a grin on her face.

And that's when Gilbert realized that--in addition to kissing him--Alice had just bit his cheek.

Hard.

She flew from the bed, sheet wrapped around her naked body like a cape, and ran circles around the room. Gilbert too leaped from the bed and chased her, and it was as he was circling the room for the second time that he noticed the open door to the bedroom. Leaning against the wooden frame was Oz, a faint smile on his face, and Gilbert simultaneously let it go and held it for later as Alice cried, "I'm not telling you, seaweed head!"

"Get back here, you idiot Chain!" It didn't take a genius to figure out what the ladies said. Gilbert knew. Oz knew as well. But they figured that now that Alice knew, they could take their showing her more. After all, they were counting on Alice to be too busy between the two of them to remember to tell anyone else.

After all, Gilbert did have a reputation of being useless to uphold.


End file.
